𓆩†𓆪 › File past his tomb, strewn with time's dead flowers. » The demon with the face of an angel.
꒰ঌBtVS RP໒꒱ • 21+
Joined July 2026
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« the human instinct for self-preservation, that spins itself into a web of comforts and ammenties, that rears and slaughters its inhabitants like generations of cattle...
That's definitely a new one.
« spent most of my immortal existence traveling around the world. I've seen empires fall, cities reduced to dust, and new worlds built on top of the ashes. After so many years, I didn't think there was anything left that could surprise me.
But a town that seems to suppress »
« could need. Nothing to complain about.
But forty-three local churches stand as proof that some part of them still fears what they won't let themselves see. Begging a higher power to deliver them.
God's answer could be found in twelve cemeteries spread across town.
I'd »
« surroundings. Never too crowded despite the number of businesses that are there to serve all human need.
The town has its own airport, railway, bus station, and shipping docks too. Running at all and odd hours, but somehow without a noise disturbing sound.
Everything they »
« ammentities for its relative size. Since finishing my work at the manor, I've taken to walking the streets at night. While looking to calm my mind, I found that some seem seem to stretch unnaturally long while walking, but never warp at all when I really try to focus on my »
« Wilfully blind, more sheep than human, and corraled by the gates of hell.
Folie à plusieurs; maybe the delusion of a normal life is all that keeps them from mass suicide or migration.
Or worse. There's something preternatural about this place. A town boasting far too many »
« day and evade detection at night. It's almost too convenient.
That, like everything else in Sunnydale, seems to be by design. Less a town and more like a processing plant, funneling human lives into the gaping maw of the beast. Their compliace seems bred into them. »
After a few nights of steady work, Rosedale Manor is almost liveable.
Ah... poor choice of words.
It's been cleaned and fortified against the elements. I've moved my belongs in. And with Rosedale's connections to the sewer lines, I'll be able to get around town during the »
« can find her feet. She bursts into ash, ready to join the pile at the hearth. It was a stupid, senseless waste of a life and I stare hard at the broom in my hand before I resume my quiet sweeping.
No time to mourn the loss. I have to get back to work.
« yellow and wild with the newborn hunger of the undead. She looks at her hands, then looks at me, baring her fresh fangs with a confused, predatory hiss.
I don’t say anything. Just step forward, pulling the last stake out of my pocket to drive it through her heart before she »
« ash, crushed beer cans, and discarded plastic cups into a neat pile near their scattered, pilfered items near the hearth.
A sharp, ragged gasp breaks the quiet.
From the dark corner, the girl sits up with a sudden, violent jerk. Her eyes snap open, no longer human, but »
« to rot with the rest of this house.
Only the last girl remains, still lying in the corner. I don’t disturb her yet. Instead, I take the old push-broom that I had salvaged from the cemetery tool shed and begin to sweep. I work methodically, pushing mounds of vampire »
« down the long path to the cemetery’s main office where I’d left them as delicately as possible on the porch, sheltered from the elements and easy for the groundskeeper to find in the morning. They deserve to be returned to their families and put to proper rest, not left »
« is gone. A vampire’s death is close to clean, but human bodies stay behind.
I’d almost forgotten about that.
───⋅𓆩†𓆪 ⋅───
The moon has cut a higher path in the sky by the time that I return. My arms ache from the labor, having carried the other three bodies »
« collapse.
The room is quiet again. And coated in a thick, velvety layer of grey powder.
I walk over to the corner where the dying girl lay and kneel beside her, pressing two fingers to her throat. Checking for a pulse, but there’s nothing. The faint flutter of her heart »
« pile of ash hits the floor.
The remaining pair, a boy and a girl barely out of high school, realize they are outmatched. They turn to sprint toward the broken terrace doors and I reach into my coat, pulling out a second stake. I throw them one after the other, and they both »
« A male vampire grabs my coat from behind, attempting to shake me around, but I elbow him hard in the jaw and spin to drive my stake into his heart.
Three more.
The girl on her knees tries to stand, but I pin her with my boot and drive the stake down through her. Another »